


Magneto Is A Bad Babysitter

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Accidental Incest, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Pubic Hair, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a commission. Magneto/Quicksilver. Consider the “my mom knew a guy…” scene not there for this fic. Set during DoFP. Erik is left babysitting the speedster at a gas station as they wait for the others to finish booking plane tickets.<br/>Wasn't intending for Quicksilver to be underage but given that we're not given his age read it that way as you will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magneto Is A Bad Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badmachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badmachine/gifts).



"I love gas stations. They’re great, you know? So many people. Truckers, workers, weirdos like you and me."

Erik is not a man appreciative of Logan’s insistence that he be left to babysit the Maximoff boy while the others work on getting them plane tickets. The boy is clever, sharp, and Erik doesn’t especially dislike him, especially given that the child had broken him from his long-time prison, but bloody  _Hell_.

The boy  _chatters_  so.

He watches as Maximoff goes through the five wallets he’d pilfered from those inside - they’re outside, leaning against the side of the wall. Erik watches the road, impatient. He wants to move already; idly, he considers his plan once they get to Paris.

History to be changed forever, there is a decision he must make…  
He glances to the side, and notes that the boy’s wallets are gone, replaced, probably.

”What if the old guy gets caught in airport security? Gets annoyed and lets his claws out and they think he has knives or something?”

"I have faith in Logan’s powers of self control." Erik returns easily, raising an eyebrow. Maximoff is fidgeting, bouncing his knees and drumming his fingers on the wall behind them. He does not comment on the boy’s "old guy" where Logan is concerned.

"What’s your power again, then? Hank and the great bearded professor aren’t obvious,  _Wolverine_  has claws…” The boy knows Erik’s power is to manipulate metal. He knows that Maximoff has a good memory, too, and that he’s hardly forgotten such an important detail.

"Self-control." Erik says in a blunt tone, and the boy blinks, then laughs.

"I like you."

"I’m touched."

"I could touch you." Erik turns his head, regarding the boy with a raised eyebrow. Maximoff looks confident of himself, watching Erik with an expression that is trying to mask how earnest the boy is. What a fascinating thing the hormones of teenagers are.

"Wait here." He says, and then he stands, slipping away from the younger man to move into the gas station bathroom. He is exhausted, he thinks, as he wets his hands and rubs the cold water on his eyes. And he does not need to try to refuse the seductions of a teenager when he is so tired and so lacking in the proper amount of self control, regardless of what he says.

A hand touches his lower back and he looks up, meeting Maximoff’s eyes in the (disgustingly grubby) mirror.

"I could." Maximoff says. "Let me. Come on, man, just let me-" Erik turns, grabbing the boy by the hair and pulling him up, taking advantage of his own height to make Maximoff let out a choked little noise as he’s forced to stand on his tip-toes.

"I am too old for you."

"Still hot." Maximoff shrugs, trying his best to look nonchalant, but when Erik tightens his grip he lets out that little whimper of noise again, closing his eyes.

"I killed the president."

"Current president’s still alive. Old news." Maximoff does not say the words properly; they’re a little higher, softer, as if they are a struggle to say. Erik has to stop himself from smirking. It’s interesting how the young thing can be so clever when he’s obviously not very good at speaking with a hand in his hair.

Erik wonders how old this boy is. God, is he actually considering this? Maximoff is pretty enough, clever, but-

"Come on, man, just fuck me." He all but whines the words, in a childish, impudent fashion that should not be attractive.

Erik lets out a frustrated growl and dispenses with self-control before he drags Maximoff by the hair and pulls him into a stall, throwing him back as he shuts the door.

"Here." Maximoff says, and he pushes a bottle into Erik’s hand. Erik chuckles, despite himself, and then he drops the lube into his front shirt pocket for a moment, concentrating on undoing the other’s jeans.

"Do you do this a lot?"

"Seduce old guys I’ve broken out of prison? Yeah, on Tuesdays." Maximoff is going to say something more, but Erik cuts him off as he pulls the jeans hard enough for them to rip, drawing a loud noise of complaint out of the boy. "Hey, those are-"

"Stolen." Erik purrs, and pulls the boy’s boxers down as well.

"Can’t argue with that." And then Maximoff throws himself forward, pressing his mouth against Erik’s. He kisses the teenager, bites at his lips and draws choked whimpers out of him, and then he feels the bottle drop from his pocket; it’s seconds later that the bottle drops onto the floor. "Okay, ready, I’m ready, let me-"

"You took such a pleasure from me? A shame." Erik murmurs, and then he grasps the other by the hips and lifts him again - and bloody Hell, the boy is light. Something to be said for a rapid metabolism, no doubt.

"You can take other-"

"Shut up." Maximoff’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting; he likes that. How sweet. Erik unzips his own jeans, pulls himself out, and Maximoff’s eyes widen a little more. Erik laughs a little, and catches the boy’s mouth in another kiss. He isn’t fidgeting now, which surprises him - but then, perhaps all Maximoff needs to keep him still is something occupying him.

And Erik can most certainly do that.

Silently, Maximoff hands him another wrapper; a condom. Smart boy. He sets it aside for a moment, and elects to try something first. He presses two fingers forwards, spare hand stroking over himself, and yes, Maximoff’s been thorough, is soaked and prepped and takes the width of those digits easily. The boy lets out a quiet whine, eyes closing tightly as his hands grasp tightly at Erik’s shoulders.

"Touch-starved, are we? Answer the question."

"I’m not, I just-" Those cheeks look pretty, all red. Erik takes an obscene pleasure in committing the boy’s face to memory, lips plump and bruised and bitten, cheeks red, eyes wide. God, why did he ever hold for self control when this was the reward for being reckless? "It’s just hard to find guys, and girls, or just-"

"I see." Erik murmurs, and then he scissors his fingers, enjoying the way the boy groans. "And so you decided to have me?"

“ _Logan_  has some issues and seems pretty straight to me, Hank is concerned with being straight and watching Professor I-Got-A-Beard, and said face hair, while we’re on the topic, smells way too much like Jack for me.” Erik does not want to consider that Maximoff apparently uses his superspeed to sniff people.

"Concise." Erik comments, and then he pulls his fingers back. He is rapid about rolling the condom on, and then he lines himself up.  
The noise Maximoff makes is distinctly satisfying, and his nails dig into Erik’s shoulders as the older man lowers him down.

"They said you could control metal, but they didn’t say you were so smart with wood." Maximoff manages to mumble against Erik’s neck, and Erik answers without missing a beat.

"I prefer to think of it as steel." Maximoff starts laughing, rolling his hips down as he does so. Erik has never had someone giggle while he’s fucking them before, but he supposes of anyone this boy is the only one one could expect to do so.

He begins to thrust, holding the other’s hips tightly, and he dips, cutting off Maximoff’s next snort by biting at his neck, marking the skin there and drawing a soft noise from those irritating lips instead. Maximoff clenches, hands shifting from Erik’s shoulders to claw at his back.

"Touch my dick." Erik chuckles at the demand.

"No." And when Maximoff’s hands move again he catches them both, pins them above the other man’s head and makes him let out a sharp sound of surprise, wrapping his legs around Erik’s waist to keep himself up. "You’re going to orgasm just like this, I’m afraid. No need to speed up the process; you need to learn some patience."

"Oh, come  _on_ -” Maximoff’s protest is immediate, but so is Erik’s retort. Patience is a terribly important virtue, after all.

"On me, yes." Erik agrees, and he speeds his movements, and this is good, he hasn’t had anything like this in so many bloody years, hasn’t had anyone tight and wet and greedy around him. He’s barely had his own hand, loathe to expose himself to the humiliation such activities would elicit from the guards. Maximoff lets out a stifled whimper, eyes closing tightly, and he clenches tightly around Erik’s cock. He can feel the boy pulse between them, cock twitching without being touched properly.

Chatterbox though the young thing is, he’s certainly fun to play with.  
He draws one hand away, keeping his wrists pinned with the other, and for a moment, he allows the boy a little hope, lets his hand drift down. Maximoff stiffens, plainly thinking Erik’s hand is moving for his cock, and Erik does smirk this time before pushing his hand up the boy’s shirt, pinching hard at his right nipple.

The noise he makes is loud, and he is surprised by how plaintive the boy’s voice is as he says, sharply, “My hair, my  _hair_ , please-“

"Your hair?"

"Just pull-" Erik draws his hand out from under the other’s shirt and tangles his hand in the boy’s hair again, tightening his grip and pulling hard.

The boy gasps, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and Erik’s grin is all teeth when Maximoff comes. Then, he speeds himself up, pinning the boy firmly against the door as he thrusts roughly again.

By the time Erik comes too, Maximoff looks tired, and Erik can’t help but feel a little smug as he pulls back, kicking up the lid of the toilet and dropping the condom in before he zips up his trousers. Maximoff’s eyelids droop a little as he pulls his jeans up, ignoring the slight stress on the fabric at his knee where Erik had ripped it.

Erik washes his hands before they move outside again, and Maximoff lets out a small yawn when they lean against the wall outside.

"Tired?"

"S’natural." Maximoff mutters, and he leans-

"Don’t you _dare_.”

\- against Erik, head on his shoulder.

"Here’s beardy and the gang." Maximoff mumbles against the other’s arm, nodding toward the car. Charles raises an eyebrow at them, and Erik sighs.

"You have an obsession with that beard."

"Maybe I have daddy issues."

"Did your daddy have a beard?"

"Quite possibly." Maximoff shrugs, and heads towards the car; Erik follows with a roll of his eyes.

"Making new friends, Erik?" Charles asks, with a little smile. It’s been a long time since Erik’s seen him smile like that.

"Hank, start driving." He says, so that he doesn’t comment on Charles’ face or tell him the reason Maximoff is trying to convince Logan to let him lean on the larger man’s shoulder.

"Fine, fine." Charles laughs, nudging Hank’s shoulder. "Shall we?"

"Mmm." Hank says, and he and Logan both glance at Erik, nostrils flaring. For God’s sake. Bloody men and their senses of smell.

"Oh, hush, the both of you." Erik mutters, and not one of them will explain to Charles why Logan snorts at the words and pushes Maximoff against Erik instead.


End file.
